Best Laid Plans

Are shot all to hell when I decide to break out the loom, let me tell you...

I swear, when I snagged the Weekend Chunky from the sale rack yesterday, I had so many other things on the agenda today. Including a much earlier blog post about something else. That, and yard work, dog walks, and not sitting on my ass in front of the loom dressing it (Doesn't that sound like I played with Barbies all day?)

Yet last night, I started winding a warp on my never before used warping board. Now there's new impetus to get that bitch mounted to the wall. How was using a dining room chair as a huge warping peg so much easier than doing it properly?

And speaking of proper. Next time I watch a video on proper warp winding and I think, "Do you really need to tie it off that much? Seems a bit like overkill to me." and watch a second video with some relaxed (she probably smoked out before filming) New Zealand chick who only tied off in three spots and decide to go with her way, I'm going got look back on to today, and tie a choke every six frigg'n inches.

However, I figured out how to use my raddle, and let me tell you, besides the initial fidgeting with her, I think she saved my life. Or maybe the Leclerc from a little conflagration. I know... I need to stop listening to period novels while cussing my heart out at my fiber past times, it gives me new big words to use. Okay, so it really just reminds me of nice big words to use. And maybe lets me be a bit more imaginative in said cursing.

When I was fighting getting the beater bar bolts loosened I believe I said something along the lines of it being "stuck like a cur's cock in a bitch". Luckily my own curs were all on a walk with their Papa Bob so they didn't feel the need to cower downstairs in fear.

However, I think my gold paint job did keep me happier than I would have been otherwise in a pink room, or a darkly painted room where I would have had to rely on other lighting to see things well, specifically the dents as I slayed the reed. To bad that isn't nearly as gruesome as it sounds, I may have felt better with some bloodshed.

Now I've an aching back, sore eyes, and full belly because Thank God The Guy fed me today as I didn't even bake the bread I had initially thought to bake today.

But alas, the loom has done been warped. For those non-weavers like The Guy, no, I didn't break down and damage the damn thing. That's the state the beastie is supposed to be in at the end of a 9+ hour fight to do exactly that. Yes dear ones. 9 hours and more. Why did I want to learn to weave again? This means that all the long threads that make of the warp of my finished fabric, are mounted, strung properly though their heddles and dents on the reed, tensioned, and ready to be woven with. Now it's time for some Advil, Downton Abbey, and some nice easy knitting. Hell, I might break out Fox Paws.

As for what all this is to be, we are in need of a real bath mat to go in front of the tub. We're yet to re-paint the bathroom, but here you can see some of the bright happy colors I'm thinking about. Hell, I'm almost ready to paint, and for those of you who know how much I hate to paint, you know how insane this project may have made me today.

I know. I just need practice. It's been well over a year since we moved here, meaning it's been probably 18 months since I've played on the loom in any way. And I have never warped a project over 60 ends. This one is 216 ends, meaning I jumped right into the deep end and deserved having my ass whooped by it. So I am off to watch some Downton and whimper and lick my wounds. Tomorrow however, I will wind some bobbins and dive in. Beware dear ones, beware.